


And Baby Makes Three / Call Me Daddy

by the_zesty_lemon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), But so does Pidge so I guess it's okay, Daddy Kink, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Garrison trio, Gen, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk is a Big Ol' Cinnamon Bun, Lance has a daddy kink, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt is So Done, Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, plance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-14 17:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_zesty_lemon/pseuds/the_zesty_lemon
Summary: Lance makes an important realization much to Pidge's displeasure.Hunk's just trying to be a good friend.





	And Baby Makes Three / Call Me Daddy

It wasn’t _technically_ Lance’s fault he got drunk at the banquet. 

_Technically_ , it was the hot ambassador from Puig’s fault.

Princess Allura instructed the Paladins at the beginning of the banquet to split up and socialize. This was something that had become increasingly important with the collapse of the Galra Empire. ‘Making nice’, as Allura so helpfully put it, was a huge part of being a Paladin of Voltron. 

Unfortunately, _because_ they were split up, it was far too late by the time anyone noticed something amiss with Lance. 

It was the gorgeous alien ambassador from Puig that offered him a special drink called Takillya. A large part of the ‘making nice’ was not offending any of their alien guests. So Lance, like the true gentleman he was, accepted the unknown drink in a show of good faith. 

It smelled slightly sour, but it went down like warm honey. 

Three Takillyas later… things were a little bit blurred around the edges. Everything seemed hilarious right now. And who better to share it with then… Lance spotted Hunk from across the ballroom he grinned. Hunk! Of course, his buddy, his pal, the second member of their awesome Garrison Trio!

Hunk was just the guy he needed to talk to. 

“Be right back, ladies.” Lance placed his empty cup down on a passing waiter’s tray and nodded at the giggling ambassador and her attendants before making his way towards the unsuspecting Yellow Paladin. 

“Hunk!” Lance whisper-yelled a little too loudly, appearing in a flourish and slinging his arm around his startled friend. 

“Whoa!” Hunk steadied the two of them before getting hit with a wave of a strange, sour-sweet aroma that wasn’t unpleasant, per say, but it certainly wasn’t what Lance normally reeked of. 

Nose scrunching, Hunk placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders and looked him over carefully. “Lance, are you… _drunk_?” 

“No way! Me?” Lance attempted to point to his nose with mixed results. Hunk watched Lance’s finger sail right past his nose and into his eyeball. 

“ _Dude_.” Hunk groaned, “Shiro is going to kill you! And that’s merciful to what _Allura_ will do to you if she finds out!” He glanced nervously around, as though saying their very names would summon them. 

Luckily it seemed no one else on team Voltron had noticed Lance’s peculiar behavior. Shiro and Allura were talking to a group of Taujeerians, Coran was tearing it up on the dance floor with a rather uncomfortable looking Unilu attendant, Keith was likely hiding somewhere in the ballroom (he hated being ordered to socialize) and Pidge was talking enthusiastically with a group of Olkari.

Hunk hustled his friend off to the side of the ballroom, just in case. 

“Was it Nunvill?” He asked once they were in the clear. 

Lance frowned and scratched the side of his head, clearly working hard to concentrate. “The ambassador offered me a weird drink… Takillya.” 

Hunk’s eyes widened. “Lance! That’s _bad_! You know what Pidge always says about human physiology not being compatible—“ 

“That’s right, I need to talk to you about Pidge.” Lance said in such a serious tone that Hunk’s words died in his throat. 

“What color does blue and yellow make?” 

Lance’s question is so unexpected it takes Hunk a moment to answer.

“Er… Green?” 

“Does that make Pidge our child?” 

The Yellow Paladin picked up a glass of water off the table and took a sip before spitting it all out in a spit-take. Lance didn’t even blink. 

“What?” Hunk gasped. 

“Because you’re yellow. And I’m blue. Did we make green? Is Pidge our child?” Hunk stared at Lance for a long, long time. 

“Lance. In the interest of you staying among the living, don’t repeat that to Pidge.” 

“Right!” Lance jotted something down on the palm of his hand, swaying dangerously. 

“No, see—“ Hunk grabbed Lance’s wrist and sighed exasperatedly, “I think we’re barreling towards a misunderstanding here because you just wrote ‘Pidge is our child’ on your hand.” 

He indicated the sloppy blue writing on Lance’s sweaty palm. 

“Just… just draw a circle with a line through it. There.” The Blue Paladin dutifully drew a line through it as instructed. 

“We have to go find Pidge. She needs to run a test and make sure that this… Takillya wasn’t a lethal substance to the human physiology.” 

“Good idea! Let’s go find the last member of the Garrison Trio!” Lance gave Hunk a goofy grin, saluted, and promptly flounced off. 

The Yellow Paladin watched his best friend make a somewhat lopsided beeline for Pidge and he face palmed. 

Hunk only hesitated in following Lance for about five seconds. In those five seconds he realized that if he didn’t follow, Pidge would murder the Blue Paladin for causing a scene and then Allura would murder them _both_ for causing a scene. 

Why was it always him that stood between peace and a bloodbath? 

Hunk sighed. Such was the duty of a Paladin: saving your fellow Paladin’s asses even when you didn’t really want to. Besides, he really needed to get Lance to the Med Bay and make sure that Takillya wasn’t a toxic substance to humans and Pidge was their best bet. She might make Lance pay for it later, but she didn’t fool around when it came to their safety. 

A little Pidge revenge was still better than being found out by Allura or Shiro. Hunk actually wanted Lance to live to see his twenty-second birthday. 

Unfortunately, there was a good chance that this wouldn't happen because of what Lance did in the next few moments:

“Pidgey!” He called loudly, snagging the smallest Paladin’s shoulders while simultaneously pressing a kiss to her cheek in front of the startled Olkari. 

The look on Pidge’s face was the strangest mix of shock and murderous rage that Hunk _had_ ever or _would_ ever behold. 

Just before she exploded, Hunk quickly stepped in.

“Hey Pidge! Sorry, we need to borrow you for just a tick. It’s important.” Hunk laughed nervously, a bead of sweat running down his brow when he noticed Allura glance towards them suspiciously. The Olkari watched as the Yellow Paladin all but scooped up the Blue and Green Paladins and made a hasty run for the exit. 

“What the _quiznak_ Lance?” Pidge hissed as soon as they were clear of the ballroom, her cheeks flushed violent scarlet. 

Hunk stored that little interesting tidbit of information away for later and got to the matter at hand before there was actual bloodshed. 

“Pidge, we need to go to the Med Bay. Lance drank something weird from the Puig ambassador.” 

Pidge’s eyebrows shot up and unconsciously she reached for the bayard at her hip. “Poison?” Her eyes flashed dangerously. 

Hunk quickly shook his head. “I don’t think so, but Lance drank—“ 

“Takillya!” Lance supplied happily, swaying on his feet. 

Hunk nodded. “I think he’s just drunk but we need to be sure.”

Pidge muttered a curse under her breath. 

“Fine. Let’s go to the Med Bay. Now.” 

“You heard her buddy, let’s go.” Hunk turned to Lance, who pouted and looked up at his friend with wide, hopeful eyes. 

“Carry me?” 

Hunk sighed. It was probably easier this way, judging by the how unsteady Lance looked on his feet.

“Hop on bud.” He turned around and crouched, allowing the Blue Paladin to scramble onto his back. 

“Giddy up!” Lance laughed gleefully, digging his knees into Hunk’s sides like a toddler playing horsey. 

Hunk grunted in annoyance but proceeded to ‘giddy up’ as instructed.

Forget _Pidge_ making Lance pay after this debacle, he was going to make Lance be his taste tester for a _month_. 

…

Pidge already had the Med Bay up and running by the time Hunk made it through the door. He deposited Lance onto the table. 

Lance eyed Pidge with interest as she took his readings. 

“What’s it say Pidgey?” He asked hopefully, “is the Takillya going to Ta-kill-me?” He burst out laughing at his own horrible joke. 

Pidge ignored him. 

“It seems all readings are mostly normal, his body temperature is running a little hotter, heartbeat accelerated but nothing alarming, consistent with intoxication…” 

“You're running a little hotter.” Lance countered, waggling his eyebrows. 

Pidge once again ignored him. “I’m going to take a blood sample just to be sure.” 

She rummaged in a cabinet behind the table. 

Hunk groaned in relief, feeling infinitely better about his friend’s prognosis. If Pidge thought it was just intoxication, it was 99.9% likely that that’s what it was. 

Hunk moved to distract Lance as Pidge drew out a syringe. The blood sample only took a moment and Lance didn’t even notice a thing. It seemed the spare time Pidge had been spending with Coran learning about Altean medical tech really paid off. 

She deposited the vial of blood into the Altean tech and let out a sigh. 

“It’ll be done in just a tick.”

Pidge turned around and jumped, surprised by how close Lance was.

“What?” She snarked, annoyed at his proximity for the second time that evening. 

Lance stared at her face seriously, his cheeks slightly flushed from the Takillya, but he didn't seem to be deterred by her reaction. 

“Can I wear your glasses?” 

Pidge didn’t even hesitate. “No.” 

“Come on Pidge! Let me wear your glasses.” Lance whined, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting childishly. 

“No.” 

“Piiiiiiiidge.” He moaned, “You’re hogging them!” 

Hunk watched, bemused, as Lance unsuccessfully tried to pluck them off of the youngest Paladin’s face. She smacked his hand away twice before he decided to try a different tactic. 

“Come on Pidge, give your glasses to _daddy_.” 

Hunk’s jaw dropped, his hands flying to his mouth in horror. 

Pidge made a choked, incoherent noise. 

“Lancey got your tongue? Boop!” Lance booped the end of Pidge’s cute little nose before stealing her glasses off her face. This seemed to be the thing that rebooted Pidge’s short-circuiting brain. 

“WHAT THE F—“ Pidge lunged for Lance. She squawked when Hunk intervened, scooping her under her arms and holding her steady. She thrashed and hissed like an angry cat against him, thirsty for blood.

“Pidge don’t! Think of Voltron!” Hunk squeaked. Pidge struggled so hard that for one terrifying moment Hunk thought she was actually going to overpower him. 

“He didn't mean it like that, he was talking earlier about how yellow and blue make green so you’re our child.” Hunk blurted desperately. 

“Listen to mommy, Pidge.” Lance scolded, pushing her glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

Pidge stilled in Hunk’s arms so suddenly that he nearly pitched both of them forward. 

“ _What_?” 

Lance turned his somewhat unfocused gaze on Pidge.

“Primary colors. Yellow and blue make green! So that must make you our child. In this essay I will—“ Pidge and Hunk watched in fascinated horror as Lance began ranting passionately about the primary colors and how he’d come to this dazzling conclusion.

Hunk did _not_ sign up for this. 

Did Lance want Pidge to murder him? And who would believe that Katie Holt, darling of the Voltron Paladins, youngest child of genius Samuel and Colleen Holt, sister to their equally ingenious son Matthew Holt, would murder the Blue Paladin? Did space have the same murder rules as international waters on earth did? Would no one want to touch it because of jurisdictional bullshit? 

Hunk had a feeling Lance was going to find out if he _didn’t stop talking_. 

_Ding!_ The timer on the blood test startled Hunk and Pidge out of their horrified stupor (though Lance gamely kept ranting).

Hunk released her arms and Pidge quickly scooped up the scanner and squinted, straining to read the results without her glasses. 

“Lance is just drunk. The Takillya had mostly alcoholic qualities and it should work through his system in the next few hours.” They both let out a breath of relief, sagging against the table. 

“The only side effect I anticipate is he’ll have a hangover in the morning.” She didn’t look at all sorry at that part. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him for the rest of the night. He’s definitely not going back to the banquet.” Hunk looked sternly at Lance, who grinned and whistled innocently. “And he’ll be getting a stern lecture from me tomorrow about accepting unknown drinks.” 

Lance pouted.

Pidge glanced at the clock on the wall. “I should probably head back to the banquet. Allura will send the castle mice after us soon. I’ll come up with something to tell her.” 

She put the scanner away and turned to Hunk.“Will you be okay with him?” 

She jerked her thumb in Lance's direction.

Lance made an indignant noise.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.” Hunk assured her.

Pidge nodded and snatched her glasses right off Lance’s face.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with those.” Lance protested, but he was too lazy right now to try to get the glasses back. 

“I owe you one, McClain.” Pidge said ominously. 

Had Lance been in his right mind, he would have heeded her warning. Pidge was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be. She could easily wipe the floor with him _any day_. When it came to the game of revenge Pidge’s motto was: _hit hard, hit dirty._

Lance knew this. 

Had, in fact, been on the receiving end of her wrath before.

As it was, Lance was currently drunk. And somewhere in the recesses of his Takillya induced mind, thought it was a good idea to blow Pidge a goodnight kiss. 

Hunk gasped. 

Pidge glowered darkly, the promise of Lance’s impending demise written clear as day on her features—and then she was gone. 

The door whooshed shut, leaving Hunk and Lance alone in the stunningly loud silence of the med bay. 

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” Lance sighed. 

“Totally.” Hunk nodded. 

“Sounds like a problem for future Lance to deal with.” 

Hunk sighed.

…

The next morning Lance woke with only a mild hangover. 

Before he could scarcely peel his eyes open, Hunk was there, armed with a _very_ stern lecture about accepting unknown drinks and their potential effects on the human physiology. 

All things considered, Lance knew he’d got off easy for such a bungle. 

Hunk had his back as usual, making sure that he hadn’t accidentally poisoned himself and more importantly—that Shiro and Allura didn’t catch wind of what _really_ happened. 

The only potential sore spot might be with Pidge. Hunk assured him that the youngest Paladin most assuredly would try to murder him because he’d called her “their child” and referred to himself as “daddy” before drunkenly ranting for a good five minutes. 

Despite Pidge’s likely impending wrath, Lance was feeling pretty fantastic come breakfast.

The dining room seemed more boisterous than usual with the arrival of Matt Holt, fresh from the resistance base. Pidge's brother often visited the Castle of Lions for a week or two at a time to work with Voltron on any threats and refresh their systems with resistance intel.

Allura nor Shiro had instantly jumped down his throat either so Lance breathed a sigh of relief, settling down into his usual seat between Pidge and Keith.

He should have known it was all going _too_ good. 

“Pidge can you please pass the food goo?” Lance asked politely, once everyone settled down. 

Pidge glanced at the bowl of food goo and glanced at Lance through her lashes, her face the absolute picture of innocence. 

Dread snarled in his gut. Lance had enough experience with Pidge to know that an innocent look didn’t mean anything good. Her face was the picture of innocence, but she had a look in her eyes that sang: “ _you’re going to hell_ ”.

“Sure thing, _daddy_.” 

Lance froze. 

Shiro dropped his fork. 

Hunk fainted. 

Matt (who just happened to arrive to the Castle of Lions that very morning) choked on a mouthful of food goo. 

Keith’s cheeks flushed, his innocent eyes wide. 

Allura and Coran glanced back and forth, incredibly confused. 

“ _P-Pidge_?” Lance finally squeaked, his face glowing as red as the Red Lion.

Pidge pouted rather adorably. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to call you last night? Something about me being yours and Hunk’s—“ 

“I was drunk!” Lance nearly shrieked. Pidge smirked triumphantly and Lance promptly remembered who he was in the company of.

Shiro and Allura’s heads swiveled nearly as one in such a terrifying speed towards him that he nearly screamed. 

“ _What_.” They said simultaneously, tones murderous. 

“I mean—“ Lance was sweating profusely now, tugging at his collar. He looked to Hunk for help, but the big guy was still passed out on the floor.

“It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t know what I was drinking and—OOF!“ 

That was the moment Matt Holt tackled Lance.

 

…

It took a while to sort things out. 

Between nearly being torn limb from limb by an angry, overprotective older brother, everyone seemed to want a piece of him after the scuffle was broken up. 

Allura, Shiro and even _Coran_ gave him a very stern dressing down. He could have hurt died, he could have caused a scene, he could have cost the coalition the new agreement... It took nearly until lunch time for everyone to get their scalding lectures in and by the time Lance was allowed to leave the dining room he was tired and had a pounding headache. 

He just wanted to hop into a hot shower and forget about this morning all together.

"Lance."

Pidge was waiting for him in the hallway, wearing a smirk that he could only describe as the ‘cat that ate the canary’. 

“What do you want?” He eyed her suspiciously. 

Suddenly she was close—too close. His breath caught in his throat when Pidge peered up at him, lost in her dreamy amber gaze. She stood on her tiptoes and yanked his collar downwards, forcing his face to her level. 

She leaned in, her lips just _barely_ ghosting over his ear. “If you wanted me to call you daddy, all you had to do was _ask_.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. No idea where this came from but here it is!
> 
> Spot the Brooklyn Nine-Nine reference FTW!


End file.
